Same Story, Different Versions
by ICRepresentative
Summary: Tia Dalma tells the story of Davy Jones' love... to the only one who truly understands. One shot. DMC spoilers.


**Disclaimer**: "Tell me... whatever happened to my ship?" "Well, Captain, it's not mine, so please put that sword down."

**A/N**: Whether or not Tia Dalma turns out to be the love of Davy Jone's life is a matter I'm pondering. I'm going for... not... at this point in time, but it'll be interested to see how it turns out. :D On a side note, I love Tia's accent. Very cool.

* * *

Tia's told this tale before. She knows it so well that it seems to flow from her heart as much as her tongue. Her sing-song voice and strange accent do not deter the single listener; rather, it seems to draw them in. Tia's eyes lock with her visitor as she begins the tale. 

"Deevy Chones. A great say-la. A man of de sea. But he fell afoul of what vexes all men. A woman."

The word slides from her tongue, stroking back slightly on the second syllable like a caress.

"'E fall in love," Tia continues, holding her listener's gaze with knowing eyes. "And him never stop lovin' 'er. But deh pain it caused 'im was so great 'e could not bear to live. But it was not enough to cause him to die.

She pauses in her tale to smile knowingly, as though about to impart some sacred knowledge.

"So he cut out him heart. It were not worth to feel what small, fleeting joy life would bring. He locked away him heart, never to be foun'.

"Ah," Tia purred, thoughtfully and knowingly, "But what of deh woman?" She smiled at her listener, knowing she had their full attention. "What indeed?

"Not many men ask of dis. Dey care not. Dey care only for Deevy Chones and where he hide him heart. Well, I'll tell you."

Tia pauses, making sure that her listener is focused. No sounds from outside or in shall disturb her in her tale. Her listener stares, waiting, waiting… Tia smiles, though her smile is tinged with sadness.

"Deh woman? One dey, she come. She stan' here, in this very room, and ask, 'Where be Deevy Chones? Where be deh man I love? What 'appan to 'im?'"

Tia pauses once more - her fingers brush across the table and pick up something cold and unfeeling, but her eyes never leave her listener's. She holds it in one hand, hiding it from sight, and resumes.

"She knew, some'ow, de an-sah to her ques-shan. She knew of what he done, and why he done. For her, always for her. For deir love, which cause him so much pain. For deir parting, which cause 'im such sorrow. But still, deh woman come here, and ask.

"An' I tell 'er to answer I must receive paymen' for such a ques-shan." Tia smiles for a moment, lost in thought. "Ah, she say no - find Deevy first, den deh paymen'. Stubborn, she was. Jus' like deh sea Deevy held so dear. So, I answer her."

Tia's smile is gone now, and her eyes are flat as polished obsidian.

"I tell 'er of Deevy Chones' 'eart. I tell of deh pain dat love brought 'im, and of deh pain 'e took to escape it."

She licks her lips, looking as though unwilling to continue speaking. But the eyes of her listener implore her to finish the tale.

"She as chan-jing as deh sea, she knew already. But disbelieve herself; disbelieve me. But she paid."

Tia opened her hand and held up the amulet for both her and her listener's inspection.

"She t'rew dis down, and turned to go. No tears for dis fine lady. Jus' deh pain dat Deevy ad felt while lovin' 'er. Jus' deh pain of love… and of love's end."

Tia nods, and the listener does the same. Waiting, waiting.

"Dere is not'ing more," Tia says softly. "Not'ing more. Deh lady paid, and I never see 'er again. Jus' as I never see Deevy again."

Tia cocks her head, listening. The noises of the night outside suddenly seem much louder. Someone is coming. Someone coming to visit her, to ask for the future or the location of some long-lost treasure, or even whether a love born under a starless night will last the test of time.

"You don' believe me?" Tia asks her listener. "Well, dat may be. P'raps you 'eard a different tale?"

Slowly, Tia puts down the mirror, and her listener vanishes.

"Well," she says, placing the amulet down carefully, "Same story, different versions."

She traces the heart of the amulet, her fingers lingering as long as her sad and timeless eyes.

"An' all of dem true."


End file.
